


Life's Scars

by Hekate1308



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Gen, Morse is a Thursday, Sick Endeavour Morse, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28956777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: Win couldn’t help but think that things may have gone better if Fred had trusted her from the start; it wasn't as if it was his fault that he'd never known Constance was pregnant when he went off to war. But now they had to deal with his twenty-one-year old son.Endeavour Morse, Fred had said he was called.
Relationships: Endeavour Morse & Fred Thursday, Endeavour Morse & Joan Thursday, Endeavour Morse & Sam Thursday, Endeavour Morse & Win Thursday, Fred Thursday/Win Thursday
Comments: 18
Kudos: 61





	Life's Scars

**Author's Note:**

> I just need more Win and Morse at any given moment. Enjoy!

Win couldn’t help but think that things may have gone better if Fred had trusted her from the start.

She knew why he hadn’t, of course, why he had kept the truth that he’d just found out he’d had another son by the girl he’d dated just before he met Win secret.

He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, when really, there was nothing to fear in that regard. Fred had never known that Constance had fallen pregnant, and then quite suddenly he’d been away at war – how could anyone blame him for all of this?

Or her, the poor dear. What she must have been going through… it somehow struck Win as the most unfair that Constance had died almost ten years ago, never knowing that Fred would have done his outmost to help her, if he’d ever found out.

But there was nothing they could do. Not in that regard.

The boy, on the other hand…

He’d turned twenty-one last March, Fred had said. Endeavour Morse – apparently, Constance had been a Quaker, so she had chosen a virtue name. He was studying at Lonsdale (but of course any child of Fred’s was bound to be clever, just look at their two trouble makers).

Not that any of it mattered, because he and Fred had met and promptly fought, splitting without any intention of seeing each other again.

Fred had been vague on the details, but she could all too easily imagine what had happened – her husband, already keen on all the privileges of a father, prying and questioning and demanding, since patience had never been one of his virtues; and Endeavour, maybe resentful of him having left his mother behind, unsure if he might not be dishonouring her memory by meeting with Fred now, and from what he had told her, rather quiet and taciturn.

There had been no other possible outcome but for them to clash in a rather spectacular fashion, and now Fred, with all his love and care for his children, was also carrying some wounded pride that made it unlikely he would try to reach out again, at least for a while.

But such things shouldn’t be allowed to fester, Win well knew. Family fights were always the worst kinds of fights, and they were barely even a family yet.

Something had to be done.

But what, that was the question. She couldn’t very well walk up to Lonsdale and demand to be let in because she needed to speak to her husband’s adult son. Granted, there seemed to be a stepmother in the picture, so to introduce herself as “Mr. Morse’s father’s wife” wouldn’t exactly be a lie, but given what had taken place between him and Fred, he would hardly welcome the intrusion…

It was pure, sheer luck that changed everything, although at that time she wouldn’t have considered herself particularly lucky. Or maybe, she would later think, it had been fate after all.

As usual, she used the children being at school, Joan being by now fifteen and Sam nine, to go shopping; she was busy checking out a few dresses at Burridges’ when she suddenly became aware of a man standing very close to her.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Len Jellicoe, store detective. Would you please follow me to the manager’s office?”

“What is this about?” she asked, feeling extremely confused. Certainly, checking out the stock was what one was supposed to do? And she’d not witnessed anything, being engrossed in her shopping…

“We can do this in my office, or I’ll have to ask you to open your bag right here and now.”

“I can’t see what’s the problem, but if you insist –“

She stopped talking about spying a pair of rather expensive-looking gloves she had never seen before in her handbag.

* * *

Five minutes later, she was sitting in the manager’s office, having been accused of shoplifting and a policeman having been called, she at least having the presence of mind to decline paying a fine for something she hadn’t done.

By now, some anger was starting to mix with her shock and confusion. It would be such an embarrassment to Fred… how dare they just accuse her of something like this. How _dare_ they.

Soon enough, a police man who introduced himself as DC Beckett and was clearly trying to intimidate her with his stare entered. Win, however, was once more the mistress of herself and was about to open her mouth and give him the shock of his life when another knock rang out and one of the sales clerks stood on the threshold. “I’m verry sorry, sir… I mean Alan… but there’s a young man who insists on speaking to someone in charge. He says it’s all a big misunderstanding, and that he witnessed the whole thing.”

Was it just her imagination, or did Beckett throw a concerned glance at Jellicoe upon hearing the news? “Send him in, then” he finally said, probably because he had no other choice.

The young man who entered the room so quickly he must have been standing right in front of the door was rather pale and thin – unhealthily so, Win decided, he could have done with a few good meals – and quite frankly not dressed appropriately warm for this time of year, but his eyes under his reddish curls were clear and determined. “Are you police?”

“DC Beckett from the –“

“He put the gloves into the lady’s bag. I saw it all. Plain as day. I kept watching because I was unsure what was going on, but when he led her away I decided I had to act.”

DC Beckett hesitated. “That’s all fine and good, Mr. –“

“Morse. E. Morse.”

Win sat up straight, staring at him. Could it be – surely it was impossible – but how many E. Morses could there be in Oxford? And he certainly _looked_ like a student.

He _had_ to be Fred’s boy.

Of all the coincidences…

“But we have the word of Mr. Jellicoe here –“

“Who asked me to pay up rather than allow them to call the police” Win interrupted them. “The damn cheek to tell me if I paid a fine, I could go on my way and “no need” to fetch the police. I said to him, "You fetch 'em!" I wasn't having that!”

Morse – _Fred’s_ Morse shot her a rather amused look, then said, “So, really, I am wondering how many other “shoplifters” you caught this year alone, Mr. Jellicoe. But, if I am right, DC Beckett could probably answer that?”

“Now, young man, what do you mean –“

“Nothing” he shrugged, “But I just think that someone who has used his position to extort someone is probably going to try again.”

“And” she now felt it was safe to announce, “I can always ask my husband what he thinks of all of this – DI Fred Thursday, of Cowley station – “

She only realized what she’d done when Morse blanched. She’d been so struck with how much he had sounded like Fred at the moment that she’d forgotten…

At least DC Beckett was spluttering now. “Ahm, Mrs. Thursday there’s definitely been some kind of misunderstanding –“

“Oh, I’d say so” Alan Burridge then announced, “And I do hope you will accept our sincerest apologies, Mrs. Thursday.”

She could tell he meant it, so she did.

“And thank you very much, Mr. Morse, for bringing this to our attention –“

“It was nothing” he mumbled, very much not looking at Win, “I take it I can go, then?”

DC Beckett had clearly decided this wasn’t worth the fight since he announced “Yes, of course –“

But Morse had already turned and left.

And Win knew that, if she lost him now, she – no, _they_ – would lose him forever.

And so she acted.

Disentangling herself from Mr. Burridge and his apologies, she quickly hastened to follow him. He’d already left the store, but all but bursting through the door, she could see him in the distance, and not caring one bit how it looked, she started to run. “Wait – wait – _Morse_!”

Fred had told her that was what he liked to be addressed as, probably because his first name was rather odd, poor dear.

He didn’t show any sign of slowing down even though he must have heard her but she persevered. “Morse! MORSE!!!”

Finally, just as she was about to give up – she simply was not as fit as she used to be anymore – he stood still and she breathed a sigh of relief as she hurried over. “Thank you so much” she gasped, “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.”

“I – I would have done it for anyone” he finally replied defiantly, but if he thought that would chase her away, he was wrong; for, immediately bringing Fred and his high regard for seeing justice done to her mind, she only cherished him the more for it.

“I’m sure you would have, but I still want to thank you.”

He shuffled his feet, still not meeting her eyes. “Yes – well – you’re welcome. I better…”

And he moved to go. She grabbed his arm since this seemed to be the only way to keep him in place. “Wait!”

He carefully schooled his features before he finally looked at her. “Mrs. Thursday, it’s clear that you know – that you are aware – of the relations between your husband and me; and given that, I think it would be best for all if I just –“

“Let me buy you a drink. You’ve been so helpful…”

It took quite a bit of insistence on her part, and even then, he only finally acquiesced because it became obvious she wouldn’t accept a no and he’d rather not cause a scene on the street, but she would take what she could get.

He was part of their family now, after all. If he wanted to, of course.

She just needed to help him see it.

After she’d brought over their drinks – sherry for her, a pint for him – he stared into his glass, his hands folded.

He really was too thin and he looked – well, a little nervous, but that was only normal under the circumstances but – sad. As if there was something preying on his mind, something other than their accidental meeting…

But that was for later. “So Fred tells me you’re reading Greats at Lonsdale?” she asked brightly.

He all but forced himself to nod, then burst out “Mrs. Thursday – I’m not sure how much – what DI Thursday told you…”

“Oh, he mentioned you’d had a bit of a quarrel” she replied as carelessly as she could. 

“It was – ahm – it really was a bit more than that. We probably shouldn’t…”

She reached out and gently touched his hand. It was ice-cold – despite her having spied a few drops on sweat on his forehead; there was clearly more the matter with him than just his worries about his new-found father. But right now, she couldn’t mention it; it would just cause him to retreat further. And so she said, “Yes, we should. This can’t be easy for either of you.”

“I – “ he swallowed. “I’ve known for a while. That… my dad isn’t… when I left for college, he told me. He was so angry I was “leaving them behind”…”

Imagine that being your first reaction to your son winning a place at _college_. In _Oxford_. If it had been their Joan or Sam, or would one day be, Win knew they would be incredibly proud.

“But I never thought I’d find out – I never – Aunt Prudence never told me that she knew, but then she suddenly decided we should, apparently… I just wish she’d told me before contacting your husband…”

Oh dear. So Fred _had_ surprised him, probably bumbling right into their talk in a passion, as he was wont to do if he didn’t think things through first… no wonder there’d been words. “I’m sure she only had your best interests at heart.”

He shrugged, but for what it was worth, he hadn’t moved his hand away from hers. “I wished she hadn’t. There was no reason to.”

She very much disagreed, but decided against telling him so. There was enough he had to deal with. “Still, I am glad we found out.”

He looked rather sceptical.

“I am” she insisted. “Everyone has the right to know where they come from. So you are a student at Lonsdale?”

He finally nodded. “Yes. Reading Greats, like you said…”

“That must be difficult.”

He shrugged once more, but this time, she found herself worrying about it. There was a certain emptiness in his eyes… “Yes, well, I’ll probably be sent down anyway” he then announced “so you see, there’s no reason to –“

“Oh dear, what’s wrong?” she interrupted him before she could help herself. But this was Fred’s boy, and he had a good heart, she felt sure; otherwise he wouldn’t have helped her back at Burridges’.

“No- Nothing. Some people are simply not cut out for…” he trailed off for a moment then ended it with, “things”.

Now, that was something she didn’t like to hear. She finally dared slip her fingers properly into his so she could squeeze his hand. “I am sure it’s more complicated than that.”

He mumbled something; she only caught a few words but it was enough to paint a broad picture. “It’s… they never really accepted me; and I – the stress – and Professor Lorimer said – and – and then Susan ended our engagement and I wondered why I ever bothered –“

Oh God. So a broken heart, the fear of failure, his body and mind clearly suffering under the strain, and then Fred had stormed in.

Again, the fight had been all too certain to happen.

“I’m sure things will look up soon” she tried.

He clearly didn’t believe her, but there was nothing she could do about it, for the time being.

“I would just like to get to know you a bit better” she then tried, squeezing his hand again. “Do you think I could – perhaps – come see you – as long as you’re still in Oxford, that is?”

It was a tad manipulative, of course; she was very aware of that. But she needed to get her foot in the door, so to speak; she couldn’t just let a child of Fred’s slip through her fingers because of a few unfortunate coincidences. She had married his father, and as such, she had a responsibility to stand in his mother’s stead – if he allowed her to do so.

“I – I don’t –“ when he saw her expression, he gave in. “Maybe. Once. Eventually.”

It was more than she had hoped for, and she nodded and squeezed his hand one more time before letting go. “Thank you, dear.”

He turned rather red at the endearment, but frankly, it brought some much-needed colour to his cheeks.

* * *

Two days ago, they had split at the pub soon after he had agreed to her visiting him; and since then, Morse had barely left Win’s thoughts. She had decided to go fulfil her promise at the earliest opportunity (for, whether or not he had realized it, she had meant it as a promise) and with the house once more empty on a fine if crisp morning, she went to do so today.

While she itched to bring him a proper meal, or at the very least some tea and biscuits, she decided against it for now – maybe a bit later, when he’d grown accustomed to her.

She very well remembered her own misgivings about lying to the porter – or well, concealing the truth, rather – as she walked up to his lodge; but ever since she had seen Morse, her priorities had shifted. He wasn’t just a faceless love child her husband had sired; he was a young man, a good young man labouring under a broken heart who clearly needed some looking after, and she was in the unique position to provide that for him.

And so she simply knocked and said, “Mr. Morse please… I’m his father’s wife.”

He seemed taken aback for a moment, then told her where to find him.

As she walked up to his door, she heard raised voices and feared that Fred had shown up again for a second, but instead, it quickly transpired that she didn’t know one of the speakers at all, while the other one was Morse.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Come on, Morse! You can’t just say that – “

“Just go, Jerome”. He sounded so exhausted she yearned to pull him into her arms. “I’m as good as gone. Go see Anthony or Bruce or someone else. I don’t care.”

She knocked.

Morse opened, looking haggard and exasperated; however, when he saw her, his expression quickly morphed into one of shock. “Mrs. Thursday –“

“Hello, dear. I happened to be pass by, so I decided to make good on my promise…” she said lightly quickly stepping past him; _a foot in the door_. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had a visitor.” Somehow, lying came a little more easily to her than she would have believed. “I can go…”

“But no, there’s no need” Morse’s friend, somewhat smaller than him and immaculately dressed, exclaimed. “Morse, why don’t you introduce us?”

He winced slightly. “Mrs. Thursday, this is Jerome Hogg, another student. Jerome, this is Mrs. Thursday –“ he stopped talking abruptly.

“My husband’s a relative of Morse’s” she decided to once more conceal the whole truth. “We only recently found out he was studying in Oxford.”

“Ah, I see.” Jerome’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, but she was determined he would only find out more once Morse agreed to it.

She turned to Morse. “Now –“ But studying him up close, the words died in her throat. God, he looked much worse than he had at the pub; there was a frantic look in his eyes and a paleness to his skin she really didn’t care for.

Automatically, she reached out and pressed her hand against his forehead. “Oh dear, you’re running a fever!”

Before he could reply, Jerome burst out, “That’s what I’ve been telling him, Mrs. Thursday! But he won’t listen, and it’s only going to get –“

“Jerome” he interrupted him, moving away from her touch, albeit slowly, “ _I_ told _you_ –“

But Win would not be frozen out of the conversation now, when it had become clear that Fred’s boy needed her. “That’s not healthy. That’s not healthy at all” she drowned out whatever he had been about to say, then turned to his friend, who, she was glad to see, seemed to be genuinely worried for him. “Certainly, there’s some way to arrange for him to have some soup or a bit of broth – get his strength up, first and foremost.”

“Mrs. Thursday – “

“You need to lie down” she decided, having spied the dark circles under his eyes even before she’d realized he was coming down with something. “Off to bed with you; Jerome and I will see to it that you have everything you need.”

“But Mrs. Thursday –“

“It’s Win, dear” she said, taking his temperature again; she was sure it was rising. “And I won’t take no for an answer. _Off to bed_.”

Just like when he agreed to have her come over, he finally realized she wouldn’t accept no for an answer, and went to change; Jerome turned to her, gratitude obvious on his face. “Oh, thank God. Ever since – well – something happened and…”

“I know about Susan” she said gently. “He told me.” Although it had most likely been less of a conscious decision to do so and more of him finally giving way to the pressure to talk to someone.

“Ah”. Jerome obviously took this as a sign they were already rather close, and why it might have been another instant of her not telling the truth in order to gain an advantage, someone had to take care of Morse. That poor boy thoroughly needed it. “Ever since then… he’s just been neglecting… not just himself, but _everything_. I’m worried, Mrs. Thursday; I am not afraid to admit it.”

And just like that, Win decided he could be trusted. Not any man would have admitted so openly to worrying about his friend. “Now, the soup…”

“Don’t worry about it Mrs. Thursday, the cooks and I do have an understanding.”

She accepted that and patiently waited for Morse to re-emerge from the bathroom; when the door opened, her worry sky-rocketed – it was clear the exertion of changing clothes had been enough to exhaust him.

And yes, she quickly determined, his fever was still on the rise. “Now. That nice Jerome is going to bring you some soup, and I know you probably don’t have much of an appetite, but you’ll have to eat at least a little bit. Promise me you’ll try?”

“I –“ he seemed to be preoccupied with Win gently brushing a damp lock of hair off his forehead. “I’ll try” he finally said, much to her relief.

“Now, you just lie down, I’ll see what I can do…”

In fact, his room was a little bit messy – just enough to tell of a carelessness that must have developed alongside everything that had been going on in his life; and by the time Jerome returned with a plate, she’d all but cleaned up.

“Where…”

She nodded towards the bed where, she was sorry to say, Morse hadn’t sunk into a restful sleep, but was dozing fitfully. “I’ll see to it that he takes some of that. Thank you, Jerome.”

He nodded, then hesitated. “Mrs. Thursday…”

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better” she said matter-of-factly; she had nursed enough people in her life to feel sure of that. “Although I don’t think we really need a nurse. I hope I’ll be able to see him every day, mostly in the mornings” thank God the children would be busy with school on weekdays.

“I’ll check up on him” Jerome eagerly promised.

“Thank you”. The last one she wanted Morse to think was that they were leaving him alone in his time of need.

“No, thank _you_ , Mrs. Thursday” he said quietly as to not to disturb Morse, making her like him all the more, “I’ve been trying him to take things easy for weeks now. With everything… and he’s just about to be – “ he broke off.

“I know. Don’t worry; we’ll see him right.” And by God, she meant it. That poor boy had gone through so much, it was time that someone looked after him.

Morse murmured something, and she hastened to wake him and get some food into him.

* * *

As it turned out, Win had been right; the next few days brought Morse a spike in his fever and many hours of unrest. She sat up with him most mornings and was relieved to find that Jerome was as much at hand as he could be; one or two days after Morse had taken to bed, another friend of his showed up – Tony; who was rather helpless when it came to nursing but obviously desired to be there in case there was anything he could do.

There was no word from Morse’s ex-fiancée, but then, Win hadn’t expected there to be.

In the beginning, the fever made the poor boy rather incoherent and he kept rambling on about all sorts of topics from his mother to Susan to – yes, eventually she heard something about his and Fred’s disastrous meeting as well; but there was nothing to indicate that breach couldn’t be healed, and she was glad for it. Through her experiences, she had learned that how they acted as a patient could tell you a lot about a person; and Morse, when his mind cleared, was so very gentle and friendly and so sorry for having to “put her through this” as he called it one day that he soon owned a place in her heart alongside her husband and their other children.

After all, as Fred’s son, she was always going to have cared for him; but now, having nursed him, she doated on him.

And so, she soon made a decision. She and Jerome had been talking quite a bit, and now knew that Morse was a gifted student who could have a brilliant career before him; granted, he was a bit shaken, and currently ill, but that shouldn’t have to ruin his life.

One day, after she’d looked in on Morse, she went to see his professor. “Old Lorimer”, as Jerome had called him (despite being around Fred’s age, as far as she could tell), was a little surprised upon calling for her to enter and seeing an Oxfordian housewife instead of a student or colleague, as he had no doubt been expecting; Win quickly came to the point. “Good morning, Professor. I wanted to talk to you about Morse – I’m Mrs. Thursday, his father’s wife.”

He shook her hand, then frowned. “His father’s wife?”

She decided to press forward. “Yes; my husband never knew Morse’s mother was pregnant, you see” Fred had told her so, and she had no reason not to believe him “and so they both ended up marrying other people. We only recently found out they are father and son.”

He stared at her – probably shocked at her frankness – then shook his head. “I should have known” he muttered. “There had to be more of a reason for him slacking the way he’s done, recently… and I hear he’s ill now, too?”

“He’s on the mend” she was quick to reassure him, and indeed, his fever was all but gone, even if he was still tired and weak.

“I am glad to hear it. Morse has always struck me as a most capable student… if I had known…” he trailed off.

“Certainly there’s something we can do, even now?” she suggested gently. “I would hate for him to lose everything because of something he has no control over.”

Maybe, if he’d been talking to a colleague or Morse himself, he would not have readily agreed; but with Win’s eyes steadily fixed on him, he stuttered around a bit, then began muttering about second chances and perhaps in this special case… 

She was well aware that she was once again playing just the tiniest bit fast and loose with the truth, since he had clearly come to believe that Morse had learned about his father around the time he first started to fall behind with his work, but it was worth it. Their poor boy needed some help.

When she returned to his room, Morse was awake and alert, chatting with Jerome; and she automatically kissed his forehead, as had become her habit. “Fever’s finally gone, thank God.”

He blushed a little. “It seems so, Win.”

She beamed; he hadn’t even hesitated this time! “I just saw Professor Lorimer” she told him.

“Oh?” he asked cautiously; she saw he was steeling himself for bad news and quickly took his hand.

“Don’t worry, dear, we came up with a plan… well, actually he made a few suggestions… so that you won’t be sent down after all!”

It was Jerome who first reacted, happily congratulating Morse – Win had all but forgotten he was even there, a fact he seemed to be aware of since he soon bid them goodbye.

“He’s going to tell everyone” he said resignedly.

“Good” she said simply, pulling out a sandwich he accepted while blushing once more. “Then Professor Lorimer will have no choice but to keep his promise.”

He seemed somewhat shocked at her callousness, but she didn’t care; a mother protected her children, as she was sure Morse’s would have done, if she had still been around, the poor dear.

That reminded her. Now that he was doing so much better and they were well on their way to fix his problems at college, it was time to broach the other, delicate subject.

She desperately wanted to properly introduce him into the family. Anything else would not only have been a lie, but rather… dangerous in some ways; Win was many things, but she wasn’t blind; and she knew better than to introduce a handsome (of course he was, he was Fred’s son) young man to a girl of fifteen without letting her know they were brother and sister. “There’s something I have been meaning to ask you, Morse” she began carefully.

“Yes?” he looked up from eating his sandwich. She was rather pleased that his appetite had returned so quickly; God knew he should put on some weight.

“I know you and Fred got off on the wrong foot, but do you think… could you imagine… you might try again, eventually? It would mean so much to him – and to me – if we could officially welcome you into the family. You could meet the children, for one – Joan and Sam – you remember I told you about them?”

During his illness, she had kept up a steady stream of a somewhat one-sided conversation.

He nodded, looking thoughtful.

“It’s your decision of course, dear” she added, “but I would love to have you over for dinner – or whenever you liked, really.”

It would do him good to have a place to go, a home away from college, somewhere he could relax; she was sure of that. And then, he was such good company – a well-mannered, kind, friendly, smart boy, who hadn’t had it easy in life, it was true, but there was no reason why it should continue like this.

Eventually, he quietly said, “I’ll think about it, Win.”

She nodded enthusiastically and spoke of other things as she took the scarf she’d been working on – one for Morse, of course – out of her basket to make some headway. They had, after all, all the time in the world.

She had no way of knowing that, on the contrary, things were bound to come to a head.

* * *

They hadn’t spoken of his, as it had turned out, oldest son again since he had admitted to Win that – well, that Morse existed, for one thing, and the scene in the pub that had followed.

But of course he’d been on Fred’s mind constantly. How could he not have been? To know that he had another child – that he and said child had gotten off to the worst possible start – that he might even now be cursing his very name because he’d exploded when he should have been understanding, and been careless when he should have been careful, was enough to drive any man to distraction, he was ready to bet.

But at least the past two weeks had made one thing very clear – he wasn’t going to give up. He and Morse had had a fight, that was the unfortunate truth; but this was too important to simply let go after one bad experience. He would apologize and grovel if necessary, but he had to see the lad again.

He'd thought about maybe asking Win to accompany him, since she was sure to act as a buffer of sorts, but then realized that Morse would undoubtedly interpret it the same way… and he might not like the sight of the woman who had taken what might have been his mother’s place, if he had known and Constance had wanted him to marry her. At least he liked to think he’d have been decent enough to offer her the choice.

And so, one morning, he vaguely made up something about “pursuing inquiries” and made his way to Lonsdale.

Their first meeting had been agreed upon via letter after Prudence Matthews had seen fit to let them know they were father and son; but he doubted Morse would have agreed to another, so seeing him there was his best bet.

The porter, at least, did not seem surprised when he told him he was Mr. Morse’s father. “Of course. Your wife has been around quite a bit, sir – and of course Mr. Morse is doing much better now.”

He did his best to school his features. So Morse’s step-mother – a woman he’d only spoken briefly of, and without much detectable affection at that – had been to see him? And what was that about him doing better? Trouble was, he couldn’t ask without telling him the whole truth, and so he decided to simply press on.

When he knocked on Morse’s door, the porter having told him where to find him, he was surprised to hear him call out cheerfully, “I actually had breakfast and I am catching up on my work, but if my kind nurse would have a cup of tea with me, I’d be glad”.

He slowly opened the door and took the lad, who was sitting at his desk with his back to him, in. He had definitely grown even thinner; seemed like he’d really been ill.

And all the time, Fred had just worried about how to _talk_ to him – dear God.

“Good morning, Morse” he finally said for lack of anything else.

He turned around so fast it would have given Fred whiplash, standing up and moving away. “DI – I – Inspector – Fa-“ he broke off.

Had he just almost called him _Father_? If so, there was reason for hope. “I’m sorry for just barging in on you like this” he said. “I just – I couldn’t leave things the way we did. I couldn’t.”

Morse swallowed.

“The porter said you’d been ill” he continued. “Are you feeling better?”

“I – yes – very much so.” Belatedly he added, “Thank you.”

And he really did look better than during their last meeting, Fred realized. Skinnier, yes, but… there was colour on his cheeks and a spark in his eyes that had been missing then. It must not all have had to do with how disastrous their drink had gone.

He kept glancing at the door. “It’s not that – I – I’ve been thinking of – of contacting you again –“

“You’re free to do so anytime” he quickly interrupted him, seizing his chance when he saw it. “Really. And – I’m sorry for what happened. I really am, lad.”

“I’m sorry too” he said softly. “I – I think we were both upset.”

“Bit of a temper, huh?” he suggested.

His lips quirked ever so slightly upwards. “So it seems. Maybe it runs in the family.”

“Maybe” he agreed, ever more hopeful. This was going much better than he had hoped or considered possible.

The reason for that, however, soon became all too clear.

“I don’t mean – it’s just that – I’m expecting someone – any minute now –“

He thought of him thanking his _kind nurse_ and suppressed a smile. So, he had a girl somewhere, hadn’t he? Good for him. “Well, I wouldn’t want to –“

And then the door opened. “Morse, how are you on this fine morning? Look who I met on my way…”

He turned around to find another young man and –

His wife. “Win?”

“Hello, Fred” she said calmly, her eyes flying to Morse, however.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded before he could stop himself.

“As a matter of fact –“ Morse began, and it might have ended in another fight if the other person in the room with perhaps more tact than finesse, hadn’t realized what was going on.

“Well, Morse, this looks to me like something or other between Win here and her husband – so why don’t we walk a quick round across the yard? You know you’re supposed to be getting exercise.”

“But –“

“It’s alright, dear” Win said simply, “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

And so Morse allowed the man to lead him away.

As soon as the door had closed behind them, he repeated his question, if a little calmer and in a softer voice.

“Oh Fred” Win was at his side in an instant. “Please don’t be angry at Morse; it was all me. We met accidentally in town, and afterwards I went to see him – I couldn’t stand the thought that he should be all alone in oxford when he has his family living here; I never meant to keep my visit a secret, but then he fell ill, and it just never seemed like the right time.”

“Yes, he said – he’s fine now, though, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, don’t worry. He’s doing well. I’d like him to put on a stone or two, really, but that’s it.”

He breathed a sigh of relief as Win confirmed what he had already known.

“But oh, Fred, he’s such a nice young man – so clever and friendly – he’s very much like you in so many regards…”

“I can think of some” he said dryly, remembering their first encounter.

“Oh, hush. He was under a lot of stress at the time – I’m sure he didn’t mean half of what he said, just like you. Won’t you try and talk to him?” she begged.

“That’s why I’m here, pet” he admitted. “If he wants to talk to me that is…”

“Oh, I’m certain Morse won’t hold anything against you. I’ve been talking to him about our family, you know; and there’s no reason to hide him, is there?”

“No, certainly, but only if he…”

“Oh, he wants to” she said simply, as if she was absolutely sure that everything would go well, bless her.

Before he could answer, Morse returned, although without that other fellow – maybe he didn’t want any witnesses to their talk – and quickly stepped up to Win. “I – Win has been very kind to me” he said quickly, “and I’m aware – that is I gathered – that she didn’t – that you didn’t – but she was simply trying to help me –“

“Oh dear, don’t worry, it’s all fine” she said, reaching out to take his hands and turning to Fred, “It is, isn’t it, love?”

It would have taken a much harder Fred Thursday to harbour any resentment upon being both beseeched by his wife and his son, who it seemed very already rather close; and so, he smiled. “Of course it is. I’m glad you weren’t alone when you were sick, lad.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten well again so soon if it weren’t for Win” he muttered, who gently reached out to tuck a lock of hair behind his ear; it was a rather windy day and it looked even more unruly than it had when they had first met.

They had clearly established some form of rapport, and Fred wasn’t surprised – when Win nursed someone, she did so with her entire heart and mind set on it and wouldn’t be gainsaid.

Proving him right, she drew the scarf he’d already noticed her knitting at home (although he had had no idea who it was for) out of her basket and handed it to Morse. “There you go; now you won’t be so cold anymore.”

He clearly didn’t know what to say, but she didn’t need him to do so in any way, shape or form, since she quickly moved on to the next topic.

“Now, let me just –“ and she bustled away. “Just like I thought, you could use some milk, dear. Let me just get it for you…”

“That’s really not necessary Win…”

“Nonsense; can’t have a proper cup of tea without a dash of milk; I’ll be back soon, don’t worry. Fred, you’ll wait for me?”

He recognized it for what it was, of course – and attempt to give them some time to talk; and soon, the door had closed behind her.

For a moment or two, silence settled over them, and to keep it from growing awkward, he quickly stepped up to the table. “What’s that? Greek?”

“Ancient Greek” he replied. “I’ve been given some time to catch up with my work… Win somehow convinced Professor Lorimer of it.”

More like she had probably refused to leave until he conceded, Fred thought, but really, more time for his work could only be a good thing; already he looked much less harassed than before…

But then, maybe his illness had had something to do with that, and Win had said that he’d been going through some things…

Well, he no longer would have to do so alone, if they had any say. And if he wanted, of course.

But remembering Win taking his hands, Fred couldn’t help but think that convincing him of that had just become a whole lot easier. “And how’s it going?”

“Well, so far, I’d say. I – we had a meeting yesterday; well, he was kind enough to come see me – “

Fred was starting to wonder if he’d known so little kindness that he was ready to consider any slight act that required the least bit empathy as such.

“And he was certainly pleased with my progress. Plus, Jerome has been helping me – you just saw him.”

He nodded, glad that the boy had at least one friend. “Good. That’s good.”

Another short silence, then Morse asked, “Would you like to sit down?”

Neither of them had done so until now, and thinking that he might still be a bit tired from his illness, Fred hastened to agree.

Morse bit his lip once they’d both taken a seat and finally began, “Win said you were a police officer?”

This was much better already than their first meeting, when he’d seemingly been disinterested in anything to do with Fred or the rest of his family. “Yes.”

“She – it wasn’t gossip or anything” he hastened to explain, “But while she was sitting with me, she started talking… I didn’t hear everything, of course, not with the fever…”

“You really don’t have to apologize. Of course you were curious. That’s just natural”.

He nodded somewhat shyly.

“I just got made Inspector” he then explained, “Cowley CID.”

Another nod.

“And what about you? Planning on staying on Lonsdale as a fellow once you’re done?”

“I – I don’t know yet” he replied finally. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for teaching.”

“That hasn’t stopped most dons I’ve met”.

Finally, his son actually smiled at him, and Fred couldn’t help but grin back.

It was then that Win returned, clearly very pleased with the scene she found. “There you go –“

“I could really pay –“

The look she bestowed on him would have made many a scarier-looking fellow than Morse fall silent, and it certainly did the trick now. “Nonsense, it’s just milk, and I know…” she trailed off before she could openly tell him it was obvious money was tight.

With everything that had happened, so far Fred had not yet had time to be proud that his son had managed rot get a scholarship to Lonsdale, but he suddenly realized that he was, and insanely so. The boy was smart.

“So, dear” Win began gently, “Would you like to come to dinner, one of these days?”

“I –“ he swallowed, then looked at Fred. He did his best to show him that he actually wanted him there as well, and it seemed he succeeded, for he finally said, “I’d be delighted.”

“Oh!” Win clapped her hands. “I am so glad – the children will be so happy. Sammy’s always wanted a big brother, and Joanie will probably want to show you off to all her friends!”

That seemed to be more responsibility than he was strictly comfortable with, but at the same time, he obviously couldn’t help but be swept away by Win’s enthusiasm; Fred knew the feeling.

“So, when do you want to come?”

* * *

When they finally left – Morse once more having assured Win that yes, he was definitely doing much better, yes, he had enough to eat and no, he wouldn’t overwork himself – Fred was feeling much more optimistic than he had dared to be when he had walked up to the college.

“I just couldn’t stand it, Fred” Win began as soon as they had stepped out of the building, “Thinking of him being all alone when he has a family in town…”

“I understand, pet” and he did.

“Really, I think even if I hadn’t known, I would have guessed eventually. You and him are so very much alike.”

Now there he couldn’t quite agree with her. He’d never been the college type.

“Yes you are” she said firmly when she saw his sceptical expression. “Both of you so very kind, and clever, and you tend to try and hide your feelings unless you explode – by the way, love, I really think you should have taken me with you from the beginning.”

That was just the usual soft Win rebuke he was used to. “You’re right” he admitted. “Would’ve made things much easier.”

“Well, it’s over and one with now – and he’ll be coming to dinner on Wednesday. I might make dumplings, or steak and kidney; something nourishing so he’ll put on some more weight…”

“Oy, pet, we can’t be too –“

“Nonsense. He’s found his family now, and we’ve found him, and that’s it.”

But of course; he had in some ways been dependent on her during his illness, and that was more than enough for Win to take someone completely under her wing, as Fred well knew.

“I’m sure Sammy’ll be delighted to hear all about gladiators or whatever they were called…”

He was going through something of a soldier phase, it was true; but considering what Fred knew about those chaps, he doubted they’d be the right topic of conversation for their first-year-old.

However, he said nothing; let Win have her fun, and who knew, maybe Morse and Sam would find something to talk about.

After all, just one short day ago, he’d been afraid he had lost the lad before he’d ever had a chance to accept him into the family, and now here they were.

* * *

Sam, from the wisdom of his almost ten ears, as he had insisted on ever since he turned nine, took the news calmly and only asked a few dangerous questions that Win was quick to deflect.

Joan, of course, their teenage hothead – another one of his children who had inherited his temper, as had become clear during her terrible twos – was another matter altogether. “What do you mean, you just didn’t know? She was pregnant!”

Of course it might have gone better if he hadn’t always been so adamant that she keep her curfew and stay away from boys until she was a bit older, Fred thought. “Yes, but Joan… it was the war, and I never knew… and then of course I met Mum.”

That mention of their home’s good spirit thankfully calmed her down somewhat, as she glanced at Win and then quietly asked, “You really never knew?”

He shook his head. “No, I promise, Joanie. Never was aware of his existence until his aunt sent me that letter.”

She finally nodded. “And he’s coming here?”

“On Wednesday. For dinner.”

A mischievous smile. “Does he have friends at college?”

“None you’d be interested in” he said firmly, but she only laughed.

* * *

Win could tell Fred was nervous; he’d come home even earlier than he’d planned to this Wednesday, and he was only now calmly smoking a pipe in the living room because Win had put her foot down. Rally, there was no reason to worry. Morse was such a dear boy, and the children were mostly curious – Joan was currently watching Sam so Win could concentrate on dinner.

She smiled to herself. Really, everything would be fine.

* * *

They had agreed that Morse should come over at five, and she was not the least surprised when he rang just as the clock chimed. She quickly took off her apron and checked her appearance in the mirror – a little vanity now and then didn’t hurt anyone, and she didn’t want Morse to think she always ran around the way she had when she’d hurried to nurse him – then opened the door. Fred was of course already peeking out the living room, but she had told him that, since due to the circumstances, he knew her best, it would probably be for the better if she welcomed him.

She opened the door smiling brightly, noting happily how much better the boy looked. “Morse! Do come in!”

He was wearing the scarf, she noticed with satisfaction, and had done his best to bundle himself up properly. “Hello, Win” he said softly, holding out –

“Oh, dear, you didn’t have to –“

Such beautiful petunias; the must have cost a bit, this time of the year…

“I wanted to” a gentle blush that reminder her of Fred when he had first asked her out. “And here…”

A bottle of wine was presented to her as well; she couldn’t help it, she just had to hug him. “Oh, really, Morse… come on, your father is in the living room.”

It was the first time she had openly referred to Fred as such when talking to him – until now she’d only alluded to the truth – but he didn’t seem the least fazed by it, to her secret delight.

Still, he glanced a little shyly towards the direction she’d indicated. “Go on” she urged him. “He’s waiting.”

 _And probably listening to every word we say_ , she didn’t add. But then, it probably wasn’t necessary – Morse was such a clever chap.

She then went to fetch Joan and Sam; despite her daughter’s insistence that she should be downstairs, she had explained to her that Morse was a very private person and that it would be better for everyone involved if they waited for a bit.

That didn’t stop Joan from jumping up from the floor as soon as she opened the door, however. “Is he here?”

She nodded. “Now –“

“Mum, I’m not a child” she complained (falsely, although Win knew from experience she wouldn’t be able to see that until a few years from now. “I can handle it.”

“I don’t – I don’t think he’s had much of a family since his mum died, Joanie” she decided to confide in her; at least that was what she had understood when Morse had been raving in his fever. “So he’s not used to it.”

Immediately, her face morphed into one of understanding and sympathy, and Win was once more reminded of her good heart. “Oh.”

She nodded. “We’ll have to take things slow.”

Although, she somewhat ruefully thought, no one could say _she_ had done so, now, could they?

* * *

Fred studied Morse carefully. The lad was clearly looking better again already – a bit of colour on his cheeks, for one – and he was smiling as he greeted him, which was a vast improvement to their first, rather unlucky, meeting. “oy. How are you? And don’t just say _fine_.”

He figured he was just the type to do so because one, he had managed to fall ill through neglecting himself when barely in his early twenties, and two, Fred himself was the same, although he wouldn’t tell him so now, God knew.

“I – “ he bit his lip, then obviously forced himself to be open. “I’ve been better. Honestly. But I’m getting there. Professor Lorimer is satisfied with the work I’ve been putting in, and I’ve been careful to eat enough. Keeping a schedule and everything.”

Although it was perhaps slightly disconcerting that he needed a reminder to eat, it was heartening that he at least bothered to keep one. “I’m glad” he told him, honestly.

He nodded, then looked away. They still had a way to go, but he was here – he was _home_.

Then, quietly, Win cleared her throat.

He turned his head and saw her in company of Joan and Sam, causing him to blush slightly.

“But that’s unfair!” Joan immediately started to complain with a twinkle in her eyes. “He’s my brother, and he’s _pretty_!”

His blush deepened, but he was quickly distracted by Sam stepping up to him and holding out his hand. “Hello. I’m Sam. I’m almost ten.”

“Nine-and-a-half” Joan corrected him. “Joan. Joanie for family.”

“I – I see” he swallowed, then seemed to remember what he was supposed to do and moved to solemnly shake Sam’s hand. “I’m Morse.”

“Morse?” he frowned.

“I don’t like my first name much” he told Sam, and since he was still a child who simply accepted people for who they were and what they wanted, he nodded. Then, he obviously surprised him by grabbing his hand. “Come, I can show you my cars! Joan doesn’t like ‘em much, ‘cause she’s a girl.”

“Maybe some of us have better things to do than drive around all day” she said, but she was smiling. “And I’m afraid you’re in for it now, Morse.”

He still appeared somewhat puzzled that Sam had just taken his hand like that, but allowed himself to be led upstairs by their youngest, Joan following probably mainly out of curiosity.

Fred was debating whether or not he should follow when Win decided, “There, see – all went well. Let them have some bonding time.”

“Are you sure –“

“Oh yes, don’t worry; Sam’s always wanted a big brother to play with, and Joan’s old enough to understand this is important. Come on, you can help me set the table.”

God bless here for realizing that, now that the introductions were over and done with, he needed a distraction more than anything.

Fifteen minutes later, Win cheerfully called upstairs, “Dears, dinner is ready!” and he realized she was already treating Morse like her own.

They came downstairs almost at once, Sam looking as happy as he could be, while Morse was apparently questioning Joan about school. She countered with inquiries about Lonsdale.

All in all, it was going better than he could ever have hoped for.

* * *

Of course, Win made sure that after dinner, he and Morse were left alone in the living room, each with a glass of whiskey in his hand.

Fred took a sip then carefully said, “I really appreciate you coming for dinner, lad. Thank you.”

“I’m the one who has every reason to be grateful” he said quietly. “Win’s been wonderful.”

“That she is” he agreed. “Would’ve saved us quite a bit of a headache if I’d just been open with her and taken her with me from the beginning, ay?”

A somewhat mischievous smile was all the agreement he got, but it was more than enough. “Joan and Sam are very… lively” Morse said then, but already, there was fondness in his voice when talking about his siblings, and Fred couldn’t help but feel happy about that.

“You’ll get used to the trouble makers.”

“I really think” he replied with something like awe “that I could.”

Win’s magic – it was the only way to explain it; but the young man who, a few short weeks ago, had wanted nothing to do with his actual father, was now on his best way to become part of the family.

It was then that Win came in, looking at Fred; when she saw him smile she relaxed and got herself a sherry.

“Dinner was delicious, Win” he told her not for the first time.

“I’m very glad you say so, Morse; you’ll come over again, won’t you? You still need some feeding up.”

He shot a glance at Fred that wasn’t difficult to read – No way out, is there – but appeared to be rather happy as he replied, “If you think so.”

* * *

Joan and Sam came downstairs again to say goodbye to Morse; his sister surprised him by pulling him into a hug and kissing his cheek, while Sam hugged his hip.

He clearly didn’t quite know what to do, but hugged them both back.

“And don’t be a stranger” Joan teased him. “Otherwise, Mum’ll come and get you.”

“I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Now, dear, you need to wrap yourself up properly…” Of course Win was already putting the scarf around his neck. “And here; a few sandwiches to tidy you over until your next proper meal.”

By now, he knew better than to protest.

Sam waved him goodbye enthusiastically until he disappeared into the night.

* * *

“He’s already looking much better” Win told him that night in their bedroom, “And did you hear hat he said to Joan – he’s doing well at Lonsdale, too. Nothing of that nonsense about being sent down anymore.”

Only Win could consider something like this nonsense when it came to one of their children…

Then he realized what he’d just thought. “Win, I know it’s not –“

“Best make it at least a weekly thing” she mused. “Family dinner, I mean. And of course he can spend the holidays with us; no reason for him to stay all alone at college.”

So much for that.

**A few months later**

Eventually, one day, Morse had pulled her to the side after dinner and quietly admitted to her that he’d told their porter the truth; and so, she was not surprised when the next time she came to visit him, he greeted her with, “Mrs. Thursday.”

She smiled. “I have to apologize…”

“Oh, you were worried about Mr. Morse” he said with a friendliness that made her suspect Morse was not just more and more open with them but in principle. “It’s perfectly natural. A difficult situation, if I may say so, Ma’am.”

“Maybe, but we’ve gotten used to it” she smiled before making her way to Morse’s place.

She knocked and entered when he called out. “Hello, dear, I thought we could have tea, if you’re not too busy…” It had become somewhat of a habit of hers to look in on him when she’d been shopping nearby, and he certainly never complained. By now, she usually either found him working cheerfully away or with one of his friends.

“Never for you, Win” he replied softly, closing his book, and she beamed.

**Years later**

“Only in Oxford” Sergeant Peter Jakes, who was a recent transfer, muttered to himself as Fred stepped into the squad room. He then turned to Strange and nodded towards the picture of the graffiti they had found near the crime scene. “We’ll need one of those clever sods from the colleges to even figure out what language that’s supposed to be – if it is one –“

“Looks like Paleo-Hebrew to me, Sergeant” he said casually, rather enjoying the astonished look on his face. “And you don’t have to worry; I have already called in our expert.”

He clearly saw Jakes mouth “Expert?” at PC Strange, who however simply grinned.

And indeed, ten minutes later, Endeavour came in, smiling.

“Hey, Dad. Ah you must be Sergeant Jakes.”

He doubted he would have recognized the shy and rather misanthropic young man he had first met that day so long ago, now.

Endeavour enthusiastically shook his head. “Endeavour Morse Thursday. I’m a fellow at Lonsdale.”

Needless to say – like Win had predicted, he had not been sent down; and naturally, he had picked up a few more things than just Ancient Greek and Latin on the way. Plus, his two younger siblings had quickly shown him that he could and did enjoy teaching.

Also, family dinner had very much become a tradition. And took place quite more often than once a week.

“Ah, I see.”

“And, was I right?”

“Yep. Definitely Paleo-Hebrew. It’s the script found in Canaanite inscriptions from the region of Biblical Israel and Judah; modern Hebrew more or less evolved from it” he told the room.

Jakes was still looking a little bit confused and Fred had to suppress a smile. But then, most people wouldn’t expect a copper to have a son teaching at an Oxford college.

He couldn’t have cared less.

“Can you translate it for us, son?”

“Yes, I am certain of it. Just give me a few minutes…”

And, as he began to do so and Strange started taking notes, Fred lit his pipe and decided that, strange murders or not, life could be rather wonderful.


End file.
